


A Walk in the Park

by fractionallyfoxtrot



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dogs, First Meetings, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-16
Updated: 2014-08-16
Packaged: 2018-02-13 09:44:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2146089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fractionallyfoxtrot/pseuds/fractionallyfoxtrot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Camleot isn't the dog Arthur ever imagined having. His energy is boundless, he slobbers on everything, and he doesn't listen to anyone.</p>
<p>Except that dark haired man they see at the park.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Walk in the Park

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tracionn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tracionn/gifts).



Arthur wound another length of the lead around his hand, struggling to keep Camelot on the path and out of the bushes.

The large bounding ball of fur masquerading as his dog was barely three years old yet he’d proved on many occasions to be just as strong as Arthur, who considered himself to be fairly fit. In the short time he’d been in Arthur’s stead Camelot had floored two postmen, jumped on numerous joggers, and threatened to pull Arthur’s arm out of its socket more times than he could count. If it wasn’t for Camelot’s infinite loyalty—patiently awaiting Arthur’s return whenever he left the flat, quietly refusing to leave Arthur’s side even during the worst of his moods—Arthur wouldn’t have had the patience to deal with the furry burden his father had given him.

The lead tightened around Arthur’s hand as Camelot bounced to the opposite side of the path, nearly cutting off a woman and her jogging stroller. Arthur hurried to grab him, pulling Camelot out of the way as the woman ran by, casting an impolite glance at both of them.

“I’m sorry,” Arthur tried but the woman was already out of earshot. He turned to Camelot, who smiled up at him, his tongue lolling out of his mouth, blissfully ignorant to what had just happened. “You can’t do that,” Arthur insisted despite knowing he wouldn’t be heard. “You can’t just charge ahead to wherever you want to go. _I_ have the lead; _I_ decide where we go. Understood?”

Camelot moved to lick Arthur’s hand and chew on the lead he’d been gesturing with for emphasis. Arthur conceded the hope for any understanding, patting Camelot on the head and wiping his hand on his trousers.

“Come on, then,” he said, giving the lead a light tug. “We’re almost through.”

Camelot didn’t need to be told twice. He jumped ahead once more, ignoring all of Arthur’s commands for him to heel.

They’d almost reached the edge of the park when Camelot surged forward with a burst of energy that was rare even for him at the end of a long walk. Arthur did his best to hold firm, grabbing the lead with both hands while quickly surveying their surroundings for the squirrel or cat or dropped chip that demanded Camelot’s attention. It was, however, difficult to assess the situation as Camelot dragged him down the path with ease, making all of Arthur’s training seem for naught.

He identified the cause just before colliding with the dark haired man.

Arthur recognized him of course: dark hair, friendly eyes, a smile that always seemed seconds away from saying something whenever they passed each other by. The man was also a regular in the park, crossing paths with Arthur and Camelot almost daily on their afternoon walk. Arthur had considered talking to him on more than one occasion—he was curious as to what statement was held just behind the man’s lips—but he’d been biding his time until he worked out the right approach.

Which, according to Camelot, seemed to include a full body tackle.

“I’m sorry!” Arthur apologized, trying to push himself off the other man. His foot got caught as he tried to stand and he barely caught himself from falling onto the man again. “I’m so sorry,” he repeated, glancing back at the lead wound around their legs. “I don’t know what came over him.”

To Arthur’s surprise, the dark haired man laughed. “It’s all right. It could be worse, I suppose.”

“How?” Arthur asked, glaring at a still bouncing Camelot as he tried to untangle the lead.

“You could be heavier than you already are.”

Arthur turned to face the man’s grin. “Are you saying I’m fat?”

“Not yet,” the man answered, his grin provoking the crease of Arthur’s brow. “But I might if we stay like this.”

Arthur’s annoyance paled at the reminder that he was responsible for their current predicament. He twisted awkwardly and tried to untangle the lead, hampered by Camelot eating up all the slack, constantly hopping between both men.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, reaching to pull Camelot towards him. “It’s difficult with him moving around.”

“What’s his name?”

“Camelot,” Arthur sighed as the offending creature stepped out of reach.

“Camelot,” the man said firmly. “Sit.”

Arthur watched in amazement as Camelot sat without a second thought. He gaped at the man and his dog as Camelot held his position instead of bounding off after a few seconds as he did whenever Arthur gave him a command.

“How did you do that?”

“It’s all in the tone of voice,” the man answered, petting Camelot’s chest. “Are you able to untie us now?”

Arthur nodded, turning wordlessly to the tangle of lead and legs. He kept glancing back at Camelot—sitting, _still_ sitting—as he worked, eventually unwinding himself from the other man and getting to his feet. Arthur held Camelot’s lead in one hand as he helped the man up although it seemed entirely unnecessary as Camelot hadn’t moved since the man spoke to him.

“I really am sorry…”

“Merlin,” the man provided, offering Arthur his hand and a smile.

“Arthur,” he said, shaking Merlin’s hand. “I don’t know what possessed him to run towards you like that. You’re not hurt, are you?”

“Elbow’s a bit sore,” Merlin said, rubbing the indicated joint briefly, “but I doubt it’s as bruised as your pride.”

A laugh escaped Arthur as he shook his head. “Yes, that might leave a mark. Thank you for pointing that out, Merlin.”

“My pleasure.”

Merlin’s grin provoked both the furrowing of Arthur’s brow and the curling of the corner of his mouth. Arthur hadn’t expected to find a quick-witted quip behind Merlin’s lips but it was a far more enjoyable than the scenarios he’d been imagining. He watched as Merlin called Camelot to him with a soft pat on his leg, almost feeling grateful for his dog’s unbridled urges as Camelot leaned into Merlin rubbing his ears.

“Would you like to get coffee?” he heard himself ask. Merlin raised a questioning brow and Arthur was quick to add, “To make up for running into you. Literally.”

“You had me pinned to the ground for a good ten minutes.” Arthur held his breath until a smile softened the end of Merlin’s sentence. “I think that warrants coffee and a muffin at the very least.”

Merlin turned and began to walk towards the park gate Arthur and Camelot had been heading for before they crashed into him. Camelot followed closely at Merlin’s side, forcing Arthur to play catch up as the lead tugged on his hand.

“I didn’t say anything about muffins.”

* * *

Merlin grinned as Arthur complained and caught up to him, already proving to be as interesting as he was handsome which was a relief as Merlin had feared they might not get on.

He dropped a treat into Camelot’s mouth when Arthur wasn’t looking.

Weeks of secretly feeding Camelot treats to find his favorite and win his favor had finally paid off.


End file.
